


Small Steps

by Spacenight



Series: The Heart wants... [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacenight/pseuds/Spacenight
Summary: Sam tries a different approach.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: The Heart wants... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956475
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Small Steps

Dean was spread out on the bed, naked but for some black lace panties that I’d asked him to put on earlier that day. He looked like a vision, all spread out for me, his skin pale in the twilight. 

The last weeks hadn’t been easy for him. He’d been tossing and turning all through the nights, dark rings growing under his bloodshot eyes. On some level I understood that he needed time to adjust, even though it was ridiculous. He’d clearly wanted me for years. I wanted him too. I didn’t see what the issue was, only that it took us too much time already to get here, to act on it. 

I’d thought that after I got him over the first time, he’d come round. And I guess to a degree he did. I could read the want in his eyes as clear as day. And yet he fought me every time I laid my hands on him, touched him, every time I brought us pleasure. It was like an ingrained reflex that he couldn’t shake. He never won those fights, and not just because I’m stronger. I think part of him didn’t want to win. 

I liked it, feeling his strong body struggle against mine, the inevitable surrender, the bruises I left on his skin, like marks of ownership. It was a heady combination. Tonight, though, I wanted something different. I wanted to see how far he would go. And I wanted him to admit that he liked this, needed this, as much as I did. 

Asking him to put on the panties had been a test. When I caught a glimpse of them over the waistband of his jeans when he got out of the Impala earlier that day, it had sent a spike of pleasure through me that was completely unexpected in its intensity. I took this as a sign and when we came back to our motel room, instead of grabbing for him and throwing him on the bed, I stood back, half hidden by shadows in the room. 

“Take your clothes off, Dean.”

He stood, rooted to the spot, that expression on his face that says he’s either going to run or fight. Then, with his next breath, it all fell away. Suddenly he looked younger, vulnerable. He began slowly, with fumbling fingers, taking each item off separately, and put them on the chair. When his hands touched the panties I stopped him. 

“No. Those can stay.”

I’ll never forget how he looked, standing there, naked, the scars on his skin gleaming in the light, and I was filled with pride, that this creature, strong and unbending, was my brother, my lover. I stepped closer and traced his face with my finger, his lips. They parted and I let my finger slip in. He was so soft, so warm, it made my cock twitch. 

I bent down to kiss him, but he flinched away. Ah. Too soon. I stepped back and went to draw something from my duffle. 

“Get on the bed, Dean.”

When I turned back, he’d obeyed, lying there, straight and tense, every muscle in sharp relief. I showed him what I held in my hands. A strip of cloth, edged with black lace, the same as his panties. I moved it towards his face, over his eyes, and I expected a fight from him then. But he just bit his lip, let me tie it around his head and when he laid back some of the tension was gone. Good. 

I indulged myself then. Before, all our fucking had been rough and quick. Now I took the time to explore, stroke over his skin, so incongruously soft, registered every shuddery intake of breath, every shiver my touch drew forth. His cock was pressing against the black silk, leaking already, as I passed it by, again and again until he was a writhing, panting mess. 

I bent down, inhaled his scent, then closed my mouth over his hard satin covered flesh and blew my hot breath against it. He whimpered, his hands twisted in the sheets, his hips twitching and I took pity on him. I drew down the soft material clinging to his cock and licked his slit, then his whole length before I took him into my mouth. His hips arched up and I pressed them down with my forearm, as I licked and sucked, savouring his taste for the first time. 

All too soon, he came, quivering, half shouting my name. As he lay there afterwards, limp and spent, I felt a satisfaction course through me that was stronger than any orgasm. I took off the blindfold and looked into his eyes. He had cried again, the moisture making his lashes stick together in spikes, but this time as I bent down to touch my lips against his, he did not draw away.


End file.
